Summer Heat
by a.lakewood
Summary: It's more than the summer heat that's got Sam all hot and bothered. WINCEST.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Summer Heat [1/2]  
Author: alakewood  
Warnings: Wincest, underage (Sam's 16).  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 1300+  
Summary: It's more than the relentless summer heat that's got Sam all hot and bothered.  
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Sam could feel the sweat trickle down his back as the afternoon sun beat down on him and Dean, the early August heat oppressive and stifling without the faintest breeze. He and his brother were sitting at the wooden picnic table behind their apartment complex, Dean teaching Sam the finer points of hustling poker. He'd been dealt his best hand yet – a pair of queens – and pushed his chips all-in, flipping his cards over, when the time came.

Dean turned over a jack and an ace and picked up the deck that had sat untouched at the edge of the table since Sam had dealt and, after wiping a few beads of perspiration from his hairline, laid down the flop. Jack. Seven. Ace.

_Son of a bitch,_ Sam thought.

Dean smirked, laying down the turn: nine – not helpful at all. He quirked an eyebrow at his younger brother and pulled the final card from the deck. He placed the river on the table and the cocky grin on his face melted away. A queen.

Sam's grin was goofy, lop-sided. "Three of a kind trumps two pair, right?"

Dean shook his head, partly in disbelief that Sam had actually _won_ and partly due to Sam's casual mingling of card-game terms. "Trip queens. You got me, Sammy. Remember: poker is a game of equal parts skill and luck. Dumb luck, in your case."

Sam snorted. "Maybe you're just not as skilled as you thought you were."

"I'm a man of _many_ talents," Dean retorted, eyebrows raised.

Sam paused to think about that, then snorted again.

"One hand out of...how many? I'm sure if we'd _really_ been keeping track of chips, you'd owe me...a lot. Cherry pie. A la mode. That should cover your debt."

"That's it?"

Dean shrugged a glistening, tan shoulder. "What can I say? I'm easy."

Sam couldn't suppress his laughter that time but fake-coughed in an attempt to cover it up. "Tell me something the entire county doesn't know."

Dean looked rather pleased as opposed to offended, which Sam had kind of been hoping for. "You're just jealous that I actually get laid. Pie and ice cream. Then I challenge you to a rematch."

Sam stood from the picnic table and combed the fingers of both hands through his hair, shoving it all back and away from his face. He glanced back at his brother as he ducked into the shade of the apartment building. He didn't stay inside long though – not only was the central air throughout the complex broken, but they were also out of ice cream. Sam returned to the back of the lot a couple minutes later with a t-shirt slung over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a few," he said, the bend of his elbow resting on his forehead as he shielded the sun from his eyes. "We're out of ice cream.

"Make sure it's _vanilla_ vanilla this time and not that _French_ stuff, all right?"

Sam saluted him before starting the three-block trek to the grocery store. The heat was suffocating but Sam couldn't find it in himself to pick up his pace, and the short walk seemed to take so much longer than it should have. The extra time allowed Sam's mind to wander back to Dean's comment – that he was jealous that Dean was having sex. A _lot_ of sex.

It seemed that as soon as the heatwave had started a week ago was when Sam suddenly had the pressing need to just _do it._ Constantly on his mind, sex consumed most of his waking thoughts and every single dream. And his own hand wasn't enough any more. His favorite fantasies didn't do anything for him, neither did the ones he rarely ever let himself think about. He just needed the real thing.

He could remember back when Dean was his age and how, no matter where they went, he'd always had a willing and eager girlfriend by the end of their second night in town. Back then, it was like a never-ending parade of girls that Dean seemed to flaunt in Sam's face that intensified once Sam had reached puberty. Funny, though, Sam thought as he waited at the corner for a break in traffic, that Dean had become increasingly discreet about his conquests over the past couple of years. At least, as far as bringing them around the apartment or the house or the motel. But he never stopped bragging.

Sam slipped his t-shirt on and entered the blissfully cool supermarket, taking his time as he moseyed back to the frozen-food department. He didn't want to leave the haven he'd found in the grocery store, but Dean was waiting. And as much as he didn't want to waste his energy trying to get back to the apartment as fast as possible, the ice cream wasn't going to stay ice cream very long in the heat.

When he returned back to the apartment, he cut a large wedge from the cherry pie on the counter and put it in a Cool Whip container. There was barely enough room for the two heaping scoops of ice cream he slopped into the space between the pie and the inside edge of the bowl.

The ice cream _did_ look good, but pie seemed too heavy. He opened the fridge, wondering if his last two root beers still remained hidden behind week-old Chinese take-out and was surprised to find both cans. He rinsed out a refillable plastic cup from the gas station on the corner and dropped a couple scoops of ice cream and emptied the can of root beer into it.

The ice cream in Dean's bowl had started to form a moat around his pie by the time Sam got out to the picnic table. At least Dean had moved the table into the slant of shade the lone Palo Brea tree formed in the corner of the lot. He passed the bowl over to his brother and took a seat on the worn bench of the table.

Even in the shade, it was nearly too hot to do much else but breathe. Sam pulled his already sweat-stained t-shirt off and wiped a dry edge of a threadbare sleeve over his face and under the hair that fell over his eyes. He shoved his hair back again and tossed the shirt onto the top of the table, his gaze falling on Dean's face and catching his brother staring at him.

Dean's spoon had stalled half-way to his mouth and the ice cream, which seemed to have lost whatever solidity it had had, dripped over the side of the shallow bowl and onto Dean's chest. He gasped as his nerves registered the sudden cold on his overheated skin, but his eyes were still – uncomprehendingly – focused on Sam's chest.

Sam's eyes dropped down to look at chest, but it looked as it always had. Just quite a bit sweatier. He glanced back up at his brother, watching as Dean's tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his teeth scraping along the same path as he bit his lip. Sam's breath caught in his chest as the sudden, unbidden image of himself licking the smear of vanilla ice cream off of Dean's chest popped into his mind. It shocked him, and his reaction seemed to break Dean out of his daze. He averted his gaze from Dean entirely. "Jeez, maybe I should've brought you out a bib. Or a straw. You're supposed to _eat_ food, not _wear_ it."

Dean's laugh was awkward and strained. "Whatever," was his witty retort. Then he flung the soggy pie and remnants of ice cream off his spoon at Sam's chest. "Maybe _you_ should be wearing a sh- bib."

"You didn't seriously just..." Sam trailed off, feeling his heartbeat falter as something like fear and hope and lust coiled in his stomach. The look on Dean's face...Sam's breath caught again.

Dean wrapped his mouth around the spoon, sucking cherry-vanilla residue from the metal. His eyes were dark when they finally met Sam's, his voice low as he spoke. "I seriously just did. What are you going to do about it?"


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Summer Heat [2/2]  
Author: alakewood  
Warnings: Wincest, underage (Sam's 16).  
Rating: R  
Word Count: ~1400  
Summary: It's more than the relentless summer heat that's got Sam all hot and bothered.  
Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

**oxoxo**

Sam glanced down at the smear of cherry pie filling and vanilla ice cream froth on his chest. With a shaking hand, he wiped the sticky mark off with his middle finger, unconsciously sticking the same finger in his mouth and pulling it back out with a faint pop.

And Dean was staring even more intently at Sam. His hands were even more tremulous than Sam's as he reloaded his spoon. "What? You want more?" he questioned, voice low and rough, uncertain.

Sam sucked at the finger again before sticking it into his root beer float. He flicked the foam at Dean. "If you can catch me," he remarked mouthily, shoving himself up off the bench before Dean had the chance to react.

Dean sat there stunned for a moment, pie and ice cream dripping back into his bowl, before he dropped the spoon and launched himself over the table at his brother.

Sam whooped and took off at a run into the gravel-colored sands of the Sonoran, Dean not far behind. Weaving around creosote bushes and saguaro cacti, he made his way back to the patchy dry grass of the apartment complexes backyard.

Just yards from the door, Dean flung himself at Sam's back, unable to hold him due to the sweat they'd worked up, and they both crashed into the dust next to Inez's garden. "You're getting slow, Sammy," Dean said, panting, as he wrestled with his brother in the dirt.

"Me? Took you long enough to catch up." He knocked Dean's arms away and Dean crashed to his chest, allowing Sam to roll them over and shoved Dean's back into the patchy, dry grass.

"Hey! Hey! You damn boys," Inez hollered, dropping an empty watering can and picking up the garden hose. She started yelling in Spanish as she aimed the hose at Sam and Dean.

Sam immediately rolled off his brother, letting Dean get hit with the warm stream, but they were both muddy in seconds. "Sorry, Inez," Sam said, giving up and just sitting under the spray.

"Sorry? I give you _sorry_." She turned the nozzle to the 'jet' setting, aiming it at Sam's chest.

"Hey!" Sam was instantly to his feet, trying to escape the stinging water.

"We _are_ sorry, Inez," Dean said placatingly while her attention was trained on Sam. "Here. I'll water the flowers. Sorry about the yard. It won't happen again."

Inez lowered the nozzle and stared at Dean for a moment. "Fine. It's the least you can do. No more roughhousing. You're not wild animals." She handed the hose over to Dean, eyes narrowed. "And don't forget the ones in the front."

"I won't, ma'am."

Sam and Dean watched her go, Sam waiting a couple of seconds after she'd disappeared into the building before he burst out laughing. "What a _suck_-up. _I won't, ma'am,_" he mocked.

"Yeah. But who's got the hose?" Dean quirked an eyebrow before raising the nozzle like he would a handgun and aimed it at Sam. "Young fella, if you're lookin' for trouble, I'll accommodate ya," he said, quoting a line from a John Wayne movie. With that, he promptly shot Sam point-blank in the chest with a jet of water.

"Hey!" Sam all but squealed, ducking his head and putting his shoulder down before rushing at Dean, hitting him square in the stomach and knocking him back to the ground.

"Dude!" Dean wheezed, dropping hose, temporarily unable to move without air in his lungs and Sam heavy on his chest.

Sam rolled off Dean again and into a mud puddle beginning form beneath them, laughing uncontrollably. "Suck-up," he said, getting back onto his feet and starting for the back door.

Inez appeared in the doorway as Sam approached it. "You're not coming in here like that," she said, waggling the finger she was pointing at him. "Dry off out here. And stop wasting my water."

Sam dropped his head. "Sorry, ma'am."

She handed him a pair of pruning shears. "Cut a few for me, too, eh?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Who's the suck-up, now?" Dean asked Sam when Inez had gone again.

"Shut up."

**oxo**

"We look like a couple of pigs," Sam observed as they headed back into their apartment, completely dry and thinly covered with caked-on dirt.

"Speak for yourself," Dean said, raking a thumbnail down Sam's filthy spine.

Sam shivered, turning to face his brother. "Should've hosed off before we came in."

"'Cause Inez wasn't pissed off enough about us screwing around down there."

"You started it."

"That's real mature."

"It's true."

"So?"

Sam scoffed, shaking his head and heading for the bathroom.

"What about my pie?"

He stopped and turned. "You can't be serious."

"Seriously serious."

"Get your own damn pie. If you hadn't _flung_ it at me, none of this would've happened."

Dean shrugged a shoulder. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Isn't that how this started?"

He took a couple steps closer to Sam. "How _what_ started?"

Sam swallowed thickly, staring down at Dean. "This," he said, voice low, almost a whisper.

"This?" Dean asked, slowly leaning up towards Sam.

Sam's eyes were closed before he even felt the ghosting brush of Dean's lips over his own. He followed after Dean's mouth when his brother pulled away. "Wait." Sam's hands moved up to the back of Dean's head, forcing their mouths back together.

Dean's hands clutched at Sam's hips before sliding up his back and holding him close. "Sam. Sam, are you sure?"

Sam nodded, pressing his body closer to Dean's regardless of the suffocating heat inside the apartment. "Yes." His mouth closed over Dean's again. "_God,_ yes." One hand still holding the back of his neck, the other dropped to the waistband of Dean's jeans and pulled him towards the bathroom.

Dean pressed Sam up against the pedestal sink, forcing a hand down between their bodies, unbuttoning and unzipping Sam's fly, slipping it under the elastic band of his boxers, fingers curling around Sam's hard dick.

Sam moaned, started pushing his pants and underwear down before beginning work on Dean's clothing. "God, Dean."

"Get in," Dean said, pulling the shower door open with one hand, the other still firmly gripping Sam's erection.

There was barely enough room inside the stall for the both of them, elbows and knees bumping against the tiled wall, the glass door, the temperature knobs. The water was cool when it hit Sam's back, making the confines of the shower bearable.

Dean reached for a bottle of body wash and the washrag that had been draped atop it. "Turn around," Dean instructed.

Sam did, letting his head fall under the refreshing spray, watching dirt and soap bubbles mingle as they swirled down the drain when Dean started washing his back with the soaped-up washrag.

With one hand dragging the rag over Sam's back and moving around to his chest, the other slid over Sam's stomach and lower, gripping his dick again, slowly stroking.

"Please?" Sam begged, attempting to thrust into Dean's loose grasp.

Dean's fist tightened, making Sam groan, and he abandoned the washrag for the moment, dropping it the shower floor to attend to his own pressing need. He manhandled Sam around so that they were facing again and pulled Sam's mouth down to his, keeping his pace on Sam's dick.

Sam tentatively took Dean's cock in his hands, stroking it as he would his own.

"Just like that," Dean said, forehead falling to Sam's shoulder. He breathed heavily through his mouth watching water drip off his nose onto Sam's heaving chest, focused his gaze further down to wear their hands worked between their bodies. But their hands weren't enough, just needed more contact, and they ended up pressed together thrusting against each other and it was all over too soon. "Sam."

"Wow."

"Yeah." He reached behind Sam and turned off the water.

Sam reached for the stall door and slid it open, stepping out on unsteady legs. He pulled a towel from a hook on the wall and scrubbed himself dry before grabbing the other and handing it to Dean.

"So..." Dean began, accepting the towel as he left the shower stall, "how about that pie?"


End file.
